Next to the now closed Nicholas Datner table shop as you come up the hill from under the light railway at Wentworth Park towards Glebe Point Road, there is an “oriental” furniture import shop. At this point, when I ride home along Pyrmont Bridge/Bridge Road, often very late, I’m taking it easy in anticipation of the steep pinch at the top. My eye is often drawn to the above rather striking window display.

It’s the door that I covet.

There is, I know, something slightly absurd and almost grotesque about such an object being ripped from its original home (I’m imagining: demolition of an older building in Singapore) and being brought, peeling paint and all, to a shop window in Sydney. I’m also reminded of those pages ripped from old books and then sold separately as pictures. I was once given a hand-painted picture of some musicians from a presumably nineteenth-century Indian book – it looked like a kind of illuminated manuscript. It was charming, but the better price that such pictures can obtain separately has almost certainly led to many books being torn apart and dispersed.

Here is a shot which in some ways gives a better perspective

and a more square-on view, though again taken rather too low:

I haven’t bothered to inquire the price, which would probably raise even further third-first world scruples. I can’t imagine where I could ever put it.

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